If only one could for a moment consider 
                music and the arts from the standpoint 
                of the early 1920s; then it might be 
                easier to understand the progressive 
                - even revolutionary – nature of the 
                music of Cyril Scott than it is today. 
                Like Constant Lambert’s ‘pink coat’ 
                the development of 20th Century 
                music has blazed so many trails that 
                they must dilute that initial assessment. 
              
               
              
Of those composers 
                who studied at Frankfurt-am-Main, who 
                had an enlightened continental attitude 
                to music yet untouched by the radical 
                ideas of the Second Viennese School 
                and were to a certain extent unconnected 
                with current trends in Britain, only 
                Percy Grainger has held a prominent 
                position. That respect is perhaps more 
                affectionate than critical, centred 
                on the perennial ‘Country Gardens’ and 
                ‘Shepherd’s Hey’, with scant regard 
                for such innovative scores as ‘The Warriors’. 
              
 
              
A similar fate has 
                attended the music of Cyril Scott who, 
                having contracted with Elkin’s publishing 
                house to provide an annual quota of 
                saleable piano pieces and songs, found 
                his reputation resting on what Christopher 
                Palmer called "agreeable trifles" 
                (the unkind and uncritical called them 
                ‘potboilers’) such as ‘Lotus Land’ ‘Water 
                Wagtail’ and ‘Danse Nègre’. His 
                reputation also suffered a little from 
                a distrust of his un-English theosophical 
                and occult philosophies and his excursions 
                into dietary matters – and more, as 
                a result of well meant championship 
                from Debussy which pigeonholed his work 
                as ‘The English Debussy’. How significant 
                the Frankfurt tributary was as a whole, 
                with its lineage of Wagner, Grieg, MacDowell 
                and Delius, should be more seriously 
                evaluated. Certainly a reassessment 
                of Scott’s work is long overdue. Therefore 
                it is exciting now to find the first 
                of a promised series of recordings (emanating 
                from Canada – shame on our own musical 
                establishment!) that is to provide a 
                complete survey of the piano compositions. 
              
 
              
This first double CD 
                is doubly welcome. It tackles at once 
                the myth that Scott’s short pieces are 
                mere ‘trifles’, but that even the slightest 
                of these is not only craftsmanlike but 
                also expressive of Scott’s highly individual 
                personality and in fact prefiguring 
                many of the later trends of the 20th 
                Century (Demuth used the word ‘prophet’) 
              
 
              
The first of the discs 
                includes four of the seven works in 
                his music to which he gave the title 
                ‘Suite’ – and the second disc contains 
                an interesting selection of the short 
                pieces. 
              
 
              
So far so good. But 
                there are revelations! Apart from the 
                very original pastiche of the Suite 
                in old style (listen to the Sarabande 
                – more Ravel than Bach?) and the exotic 
                ‘Indian Suite’ we hear for the first 
                time the vast canvas of the disarmingly 
                entitled ‘Deuxième Suite’ – op. 
                75 from 1910, dating roughly from that 
                experimental period that produced the 
                first Sonata op. 66. This Suite is an 
                astonishing work. Its architecture is 
                curious – two substantial movements 
                and three shorter pieces. It seems to 
                have no real structure, although it 
                is not a conglomerate of dance tunes. 
                Yet the theme of the second movement 
                ‘Air varié’ is echoed in the 
                final fugue subject of the last movement. 
                In fact these two movements could readily 
                stand as works in their own right. These 
                are punctuated by the opening Prelude 
                (a progression of obsessive triplets), 
                a Solemn Dance which shares Quilter’s 
                world, and a dramatic Caprice. The Air 
                is a solemn extended theme developing 
                into a flood of arabesque, the piano 
                writing of considerable virtuosity with 
                constantly varied time signatures. A 
                cadenza-like movement leads, through 
                a decorated cortège section to 
                the final Coda which is very close to 
                the op. 66 Sonata in mood. The culmination 
                of this ‘Suite’ is an Introduction and 
                Fugue. A characteristic chordal progression 
                (shades of MacDowell) recalls ‘Pierrot 
                Triste’ and is followed by the fugue 
                subject, a variant of the Air from the 
                second movement. This chromatic figure 
                proceeds with cumulative inevitability 
                to a climax and the restatement of the 
                subject. The final work on this disc 
                is a joyous yea-saying Handelian Rhapsody 
                which one could well imagine played 
                with colonial gusto by the ebullient 
                Grainger (who edited the piece). 
              
 
              
The second disc demonstrates, 
                in its judicious selection of short 
                pieces – those ‘salon’ items which Scott 
                had to provide in fulfilment of his 
                contract with Elkin – that Scott was 
                a craftsman sufficiently skilled to 
                invest such pieces as Vesperale and 
                Notturno that verged on sentiment, with 
                a rare enough distinction. There is 
                delightful variety – the delicate, Chaminade-like 
                ‘Valse Caprice’ – and immediate contrast 
                in the solemn ‘Requiescat’ – a tolling 
                E flat pedal with a majestic climax 
                (written in memory of Archie Rowan Hamilton 
                who died of wounds October 1915). In 
                contrast with Vesperale and Notturno, 
                the enigmatic ‘Sphinx’ and the strange 
                ‘Vistas’ – this last a set of three 
                atmospheric pieces whose opening ‘Lonely 
                Dell’ is an eerie evocation. The second 
                of the pieces is drenched with bird-song 
                recalling Palmgren, and the concluding 
                piece is a bucolic ‘Jocund Dance’ In 
                ‘Twilight Tide’ there are unquestionably 
                echoes of ‘Voiles’ and no noses should 
                be turned up at the first of the Alpine 
                sketches – this is light music at its 
                best. 
              
 
              
This well-chosen selection 
                is played beautifully by Leslie De’Ath 
                and complemented by a personal memoir 
                by the composer’s son Desmond Scott. 
                I shall look forward to subsequent recordings 
                – the ‘Poems’, (together with Scott’s 
                own verses)- the three Piano Sonatas 
                (op. 66 in its original form?) ... and 
                more? 
              
 
              
Colin Scott-Sutherland